


False Light

by Waltzing



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Angst, Doppelganger, Fae & Fairies, Fluff, M/M, Requited Love, Rescue Missions, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5479511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waltzing/pseuds/Waltzing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Childermass finds that Segundus has been lured into Faerie lands with the promise of a not-Childermass to share an eternity with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	False Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the JSMN Kinkmeme.

It is night-time when Childermass enters the fairy's domain. Thus far his way across Faerie has been lit by a distant canopy of strange stars and unrecognisable constellations. But as he crosses the border into the fairy's land, he takes the black tallow candle from his pocket along with a book of matches and lights it. He cups one hand around the wick as if to shield it, mutters a few words and breathes upon the flame, which stutters slightly before changing colour to a soft, deep blue.  
  
The irony that he is using one of John Segundus's spells for this part of the journey is not lost upon him.  
  
He continues along the path, with no protection but his knife and his magic, following the faint familiar magical trace that he first sensed in the King's Roads. A trace that reminds him of sweet smiles, long discussions and friendly arguments running deep into the night, the smell of ink and new books, hope and discovery.  
  
He almost smiles to himself until he recalls where he is, and why.  
  
The path seems to wind among stately gardens, fine marble statues and starlit rose bushes. But where he lets the blue candlelight hit, the truth is revealed: the gardens are ancient battlefields strewn with corpses, the rose bushes are unyielding masses of briars and thorns, statues are old bleached skeletons.  
  
He wonders, once more, at what fairies are capable of. And at the lengths they will go to keep a Christian for themselves, as an Englishman would keep a pet dog.  
  
After an hour or so, he spots a cosy half-timbered building up ahead, reminiscent of a country farmhouse. Closer, he sees that it is nestled amongst flowerbeds and vegetable patches. The downstairs windows are dark and shuttered, but in one upstairs window he spots a flickering white light playing behind a curtain. The trace of John Segundus and his magic is stronger here.  
  
He draws closer, carefully opening the low gate, walking up the path, past a herb garden that gives off no scent, and a border of daisies that remain open-petalled in spite of the hour. He lifts his candle and the light shows him that instead of wattle and daub, the cottage's foundations are broken bones and broken promises, the walls tangles of vines, brambles and longing, mortared with abandoned dreams.  
  
He tries the front door. It is unlocked. He steps through.

 

*

 

The fairy lanterns positioned in the downstairs room light up suddenly as he enters, giving off a cold hard light that temporarily counteracts the work of his candle, illuminating a room richly furnished with carpets, dark oak and brass.  
  
Childermass instead heads down the hallway to a spiral staircase half-hidden in the corner. There is no light here, fairy or otherwise: it is as if the house does not wish him to ascend the steps, which is how he knows for sure that this is the way. The candle flame shows that the fine polished wood of the staircase is bone and moss, held together with sinew, and it creaks like the moans of something old and lost as he starts up the steps. Childermass tries not to think too much of it, the contrast between what is real and what is not leaves him distinctly uncomfortable.  
  
The magical trace of John Segundus is stronger at the top of the stairs. There is one door ahead of him, closed, and he places his hand on the handle in trepidation. He is in the fairy's lair. But so is John Segundus, and that is what matters.

 

*

  
The fairy is nowhere to be seen. Instead, unnervingly, Childermass finds himself facing his own sleeping form. His own sleeping form under the covers of a four poster bed, with John Segundus in its arms.  
  
Childermass had known what the fairy was; knew what it did to snare people, to keep men forever in Faerie, granting a person's wishes, their heart's desires, the impossible dreams. He knew and yet he did not expect such a sight to affect him so deeply, to _hurt_. He knew from his investigations that John Segundus had bargained away his life in England for a life here, and it may have crossed his mind what John Segundus's sought-after desires would look like, but it hurt to see it now so plainly, after everything they had barely hinted at in each other's presence: talks that had veered around the edges of the subject, never quite touching it. Always too busy on his part, travelling the country, deciphering the King's Letters, determining what comes next. All the laws about such relationships that kept him cautious, they were worth consideration too, now that his feigned respectability was opening doors for him, doors ultimately for the Raven King to walk through. It left Childermass little time or inclination to consider what his own heart wanted. John Segundus had become more distant with each visit, pale and drawn, eyes tired, resigned.  
  
The sight in front of him, laid out so brazenly, so disconcertingly, is almost more than he can bear. The bed is unfamiliar, but the room appears very much like a certain room in Starecross, one he had fled in haste the last time he had spoken to John Segundus.  
  
He does not advance upon the sleepers. He is afraid of what other truths his candle must show him. A single white light emanating from the guttering flame on the windowsill illuminates the faces of the sleepers, the face of his facsimile, seemingly so much more peaceful in slumber. Softer, kinder than his own, he thinks. The eyelids flutter but do not open, and Childermass is glad for it. He does not wish to see them, or their expression. Perhaps that too is a better version of his own.  
  
The double, the _fetch_ he remembers, breathes normally, deeply. Childermass hasn't ever slept as soundly as that in his life.  
  
His heartbeat is quicker than he would like: it isn't fear, but something deeper and more unsettling. The stories from his childhood, the ones he dismissed once he came of age and entered a world of real, controllable magic, they told of apparitions, wraiths that appear as a person's double, foretelling their death. Superstitions, but he wonders now if there was something in the stories after all. He shivers.

 

*

  
John Segundus stirs, yawns, and opens his eyes. He sits up, looks around and he starts.  
  
The sleeping figure beside him - lifelike, so lifelike - turns over, undisturbed, and begins to snore lightly.  
  
Wide-eyed, John Segundus clambers out of bed, in nothing but a nightshirt. He does not take his eyes from Childermass's face.  
  
Childermass reluctantly moves closer. "Mr Segundus-", he begins.  
  
"Shh! You'll wake him." Segundus gestures towards the sleeping figure.  
  
This close now, the blue light from his tallow candle competes with that of the fairy light on the windowsill: he can feel its cold white force pushing against his own magic. His candle flame flickers but gains strength, growing brighter, steadier. The image in front of him is highly uncomfortable to look at: the fairy candle at the window illuminates the bed and the sleeper, but his own candle shows merely a gnarled tree trunk in its place and no sleeping figure.  
  
The two images overlay, both flickering in time to their respective lights. The sleeper and the bed, the tree trunk and nothing. Both there and not there simultaneously. Illusion superimposed over reality. Childermass feels nauseous.  
  
The only real thing in the room is Mr Segundus.  
  
_And myself_ , he tells himself. Mr Segundus moves away from him, and Childermass wonders if his mind is so addled he is choosing to go back to bed. Instead he moves closer to the candle on the windowsill.  
  
And then Childermass realises.  
  
The fairy flame on the windowsill maintains the entire illusion. The bed and the sleeper.  
  
And if a man were to blow it out, what then?

 

*

  
Before considering that, there is something, _someone_ he must attend to, urgently. Someone he knows he should have attended to long before it came to this.  
  
"Mr Segundus -" the man is staring at him from his place beside the fairy flame. "Mr Segundus," he says again. He can't think what to say. " _John_ ," he manages, "do you know who I am?"  
  
Childermass wonders how much Segundus remembers. Is memory something else you forsake in order to have your life's desire granted? To gain a perfect life in Faerie, must a man forget the imperfect one, the one that eluded him back home?  
  
Segundus looks puzzled. "Of course I know you."  
  
Childermass blinks, pauses. "You understand, then, that none of this is real?" He indicates the flickering bed, the sleeper, the room.  
  
Segundus nods.  
  
Childermass is confused now. "Do you know where you are?"  
  
Segundus almost rolls his eyes. "Yes," he sighs, looking uncomfortable, even embarrassed. "I am in Faerie. Living a life I could not have in England. Is there a problem, Childermass?"  
  
Childermass finds he does not know what to say.  
  
After a moment of uncomfortable silence in which neither man moves, Segundus gestures helplessly towards the candle Childermass is holding. "Is that spell one of my own?"  
  
Childermass nods. Segundus seems drawn to the spell, almost in spite of himself, moving around the bed towards Childermass. He walks up to him, almost confident and Childermass nearly steps back, but Segundus only cups his hands around the blue flame and breathes upon it. The flame remains steady, but the blue light emanating from it expands and brightens, lighting Segundus's face in soft blue, spilling through the gaps between his fingers. When he takes his hands away, the blue light fills the whole room, blotting out the bed and the sleeper, showing the walls and floor and windows for creepers, twine and bone.  
  
"The spell was only ever theoretical," he says to Childermass. "It is good to see that it works in practice."  
  
After a moment, the light retracts, returning to its original strength.  
  
"Everything here is artifice, sir," Childermass says, almost stupidly, as if willing Segundus to understand.  
  
"I know that," Segundus says. He goes back over to the fairy flame on the windowsill and watches it dance.  
  
"I can't let you stay here."  
  
"I feared as much," Segundus says, sadly, his back to Childermass. "I don't know how you found me. Or why."  
  
Childermass's head aches. "You know why."  
  
Segundus says nothing, but when he turns around, he looks tired, sad, humiliated.  
  
Childermass breaks the silence. "If we leave this place, will the fairy attempt to stop us?"  
  
Segundus thinks. "The agreement was that she provide me with the life I want as long as I stay. I don't know."  
  
"And what does _she_ get from you staying?" Childermass asks, wary.  
  
"Prestige, I believe," Segundus says. "And perhaps other things prized by fairies. The admiration of neighbouring Kings and Queens. Status. I cannot be sure."  
  
Childermass is near furious with him for his folly. "You cannot be _sure_? And yet you _willingly_ entered into a bargain - " His voice is rough; he has to look away to compose himself.  
  
He turns back after a moment, to find that Segundus is watching him, and not the sleeping figure.  
  
"It is the flame, is it not? Childermass asks. "That perpetuates this illusion. It needs to be extinguished."  
  
Segundus nods, reluctantly.  
  
"I think you need to do it, sir. Not I."

 

*

  
Segundus takes his time, and the looks he gives the sleeping figure before going to the flame are more than Childermass can bear to see. With one last longing look back, Segundus blows out the flame and the room reverts to its true, unbeautiful form, sans bed and sleeping apparition.  
  
While Segundus silently dresses and gathers his scant belongings (barely anything at all, as if he thought he would want for little in the fairy's domain), Childermass repeats the version of the spell he saw Segundus cast, and watches the blue flame of the candle expand, filling the room. It will help John, he thinks, if on their way out, he sees the house for what it truly is. No false comforts to tempt him to stay.  
  
Once Segundus is ready, he goes straight past Childermass without a word, down the creaking staircase and out of the building. Childermass follows, surprised at his haste. Segundus stops briefly in front of the house as Childermass watches him from the doorway. There is sadness in his expression as he stares up at it, and Childermass wonders what he sees there before he turns and walks away. He doesn't look back.

 

*

 

Childermass says nothing as they head away from the fairy house. He is not entirely sure that he will not snap at Mr Segundus if he so much as opens his mouth. Instead he clutches the base of the candle harder than is necessary and tries to focus on the winding path up ahead, picking out the twists and coils in the gloom.  
  
Segundus seems to sense Childermass's dark mood, but it does not stop him from eventually breaking their self-imposed silence.  
  
"You still haven't told me how you found me."  
  
Childermass takes a breath, tries to calm his simmering anger before he replies. "I followed your magic. I've told you before: I sense it. I'd recognise it anywhere." He says this through gritted teeth. Segundus glances sidelong at him and Childermass realises he has failed to keep his annoyance out of his tone.  
  
"Childermass," Segundus says hesitantly, "I am sorry that you saw what you did. I understand why you are angry-"  
  
"Angry? I am not angry about that!" Childermass interrupts. "I - I simply cannot believe that you knew the whole time! I thought you had been bewitched, but it turns out you were aware it was a sham... and yet you let it continue?"  
  
He stares at Segundus, who is looking down, cheeks burning. Quieter, he adds "I cannot believe you willingly chose artifice over reality. You, of all people."  
  
Segundus sighs, sadly. "There was a time when I wouldn't have believed it of myself, either."  
  
Childermass makes no reply, and they walk the path in silence for a while longer. Segundus appears to be turning something over in his head. Childermass recognises that pensive look, and is unsurprised when Segundus speaks again.  
  
"Who is to say that reality is inherently preferable to dreams?"  
  
Childermass shakes his head in exasperation but does not answer.  
  
Segundus continues. "I don't regret what I have done. I know you think I should. But the world I left holds no special appeal. It is not _naturally_ better, nor good in and of itself, just because it is the world of mankind. In many aspects it is _not_ preferable to Faerie, for at least here, whom one may love is not governed by law, nor by fear of recrimination." Childermass sees out of the corner of his eye that Segundus looks at him as he says this, but he steadfastly keeps his eyes on the path ahead. He is not ready for this conversation.  
  
But Segundus is not finished. "Unlike many in England, I do not believe that denying yourself everything you wish for is inherently virtuous. It more often than not leads to misery, wasted opportunities and regret." He sighs, then, bitterly, he adds "Am I not allowed _once_ in my life to have something of what I want?"  
  
Childermass stops dead in the path. The hand carrying his candle is shaking. He snuffs out the flame with his fingers, barely feeling the heat of it, folds the still-smoking candle in his handkerchief and stows it in his coat pocket. The landscape around is fairy-beautiful once more. But Segundus does not notice that as he looks at him instead in consternation.  
  
Childermass looks Segundus intently in the eye. "You would have all _that_ " - here Childermass gestures back in the direction of the house - "Over me?" His voice is rough, almost breaking.  
  
Segundus looks at him as if he has gone mad. " _You_ were never an option!" he exclaims. "I would have all that over _nothing._ "  
  
Childermass shakes his head again and carries on down the path.  
  
Segundus calls after him. "And now I _do_ have nothing, Childermass! Is that not enough?"

 

*

  
They continue walking, Segundus following behind him now, and they leave much of the fairy finery of the landscape behind in favour of clambering over crumbling brickwork, traversing through forests full of charred trees and ash, traipsing over unfinished bridges and down dead-end roads. They are still not out of the fairy's domain, which bothers Childermass. He knows they have taken wrong turnings already, ones he did not take on his way there, but the landscape of Faerie is notably mutable - it is possible new roads and pathways have sprung up since he passed through earlier. Still, even taking their new detours into account, they should have crossed the border into the next land by now, Childermass is sure. It would be good to get away from this place, he thinks. He wonders again at the fact that there has been no sign of the fairy, Segundus's benefactor, when something occurs to him.  
  
He turns to Segundus. "We should have left this place by now. Is it possible your... _fairy_ is trying to keep us here?  
  
Segundus bites his lip. "I was free to leave whenever I wanted. I mean, that is what she told me. But I doubt she would want to make it easy for me to leave. Do you believe we have lost our way?"  
  
Childermass nods, grimly. "Time for another spell, I think, sir."  
  
He takes out a small bronze locket-sized object from his pocket, and flicks it open to reveal a compass inside. "Had this since I was at sea," Childermass says. "No use in Faerie, of course, because there is no north here to find. However..." He taps the spinning compass arrow, closes his eyes while he remembers the spell and opens them again. He holds the compass up to the starlight, and examines it. The arrow is now stilled, white hot, and pointing in one direction.  
  
"This is the way we go," he says and strides away.  
  
Segundus follows. "So, before," he asks, "when you passed through here on your way to find me, you didn't have this problem? You just "knew" which path to take?"  
  
"As I said, I followed the trace of your magic," Childermass says. "One of the few instances where you being far from me was beneficial: I could tell exactly which path to take because I knew it would bring me to you. I never made a wrong turning." He considers for a second, then says, almost lightly: "Now it seems, the closer you are, the less idea I have of where I'm going."  
  
_And perhaps that has always been my problem_ , he thinks. _One for me to overcome._

 

*

 

They are nearly at the border when the path suddenly opens into a hidden ravine, steep sided and so deep the bottom is shrouded in darkness. Childermass is just able to catch himself, at the edge, but Segundus next to him nearly goes over. Childermass manages to grab him by his coat and hauls him back.  
  
They collapse by the side of the gorge, Segundus shaking.  
  
"Seems like that was courtesy of your fairy friend," Childermass says. "And hopefully the last diversion. It cannot be much further."  
  
He gets to his feet. "Come now, Mr Segundus," he says when he doesn't move. Instead, Segundus lies fully back on the grass beside the ravine and closes his eyes.  
  
"Would anyone miss me?" he mumbles shakily, his hands over his eyes. "If I had gone over..."  
  
"What do you mean?" Childermass says, uneasily.  
  
"No one needs me," Segundus replies.  
  
Childermass huffs something close to a laugh. "I can't speak for anyone else, although I'm sure there are plenty to speak of who _already_ miss you, and many more than that who need you. As for me, I walked across half of Faerie to get you back, so what do you think?"  
  
Segundus opens his eyes. "Sorry," he says quietly.  
  
"Come now, John," Childermass says, and helps him up. "Let's get you home."

 

*

 

Segundus's mood improves when they finally cross the border and leave the fairy's domain. They are not yet at the King's Roads, but the fairy has no influence over any other land but her own.  
  
A few miles later, they end up having to hide amongst some trees after hearing what sounds like the cries of wolves, but what turns out to be a party of raucous fairies making its way along the main path. After the troop has passed, the two of them re-emerge and continue their journey, Childermass mentioning how much he misses England, how he can't wait to be back somewhere where he can tell for sure what is real and what isn't. He remembers the upstairs room in the fairy house as he speaks, and immediately regrets what he said. He hopes Segundus was paying him no heed, but Segundus appears instead to muse over his proclamation before telling him that even now, after everything, he finds the concept of "reality" as understood by men to be over-valued, because the real world, the manufactured world of commerce, laws and government, could never match up to even the lowliest dreams of the common man, in all their unbound and wild imaginings. "In any case," Segundus concludes, "who is the arbiter of what is real and what is not?"  
  
There is less pain in his voice than before, and Childermass is reminded now of the kinds of discussion they used to have when he'd visit Starecross, endless tangents on everything from history to the ethics of magic, to politics, to the deepest philosophical questions. He hadn't realised how much he missed it. He thinks he has been a fool about many things in his life, but leaving John that night all those months ago must top the list.  
  
Childermass looks over at Segundus. His heart pounds. He keeps his tone light and his hands in his coat pockets, but his nails dig into his palms. "It is all very well you pondering the nature of reality, but I find there is an easy way to determine what is real and what is not."  
  
"Oh yes?" Segundus asks, in a gently mocking tone, and he smiles, the first smile Childermass has witnessed since he began his search. It is a lovely thing to behold.  
  
Childermass suddenly reaches for Segundus's hand. "Let me demonstrate," he says. He holds Segundus's hand in his own, then brings it up to his mouth. He kisses his knuckles, then looks at Segundus over them. "Does this feel real?"  
  
Segundus is wide-eyed, pale, but he nods.  
  
"Are you sure?" Childermass asks, and gently pulls Segundus towards him. He feels less confident than he sounds, but he brings one hand to Segundus's neck, leans in and kisses his cheek. "Does this feel real?" he mumbles against skin.  
  
Segundus is trembling slightly in his arms, but he nods again.  
  
Childermass doesn't feel too steady himself, but he gently tilts Segundus's head and kisses his mouth, once, softly. Segundus's breath hitches. Breathless himself, Childermass speaks against his lips, "What about this?"  
  
"Yes," Segundus breathes and leans in to kiss him back.

 

*

  
They seem to stumble upon the King's Roads in no time. But after the elation of having John in his arms, Childermass finds himself mentally returning again and again to an image of an apparition asleep in a bed, the peaceful sleep of an unblemished, unhaunted figure with no cares in any world.  
  
He finds he is walking faster, as if movement will rid his mind of the image, and Segundus has to stride to keep up with him.  
  
"John?" Segundus says, and lays a hand upon his arm, halting him.  
  
Childermass's mind feels like it is buzzing with worry. "I am an inconsiderate man," he blurts out.  
  
Segundus looks confused, but now Childermass has started, he has to keep going. The least he can do is allow John a way out, if that is what he wants.  
  
"I'm callous, insensitive. Blunt, unsentimental and unmannered. As has been pointed out to me before, absolutely lacking in social graces. I speak my mind regardless of whether it hurts anyone, I don't couch my words in niceties. I'm ruthlessly singleminded. I'm untidy, I barely sleep, and when I do I toss and turn. I'm stubborn - some might say pigheaded - and I won't always come when you call. I have made enemies and I will die eventually, perhaps soon. Most likely ahead of you."  
  
Segundus is open-mouthed, but his expression quickly changes to a grin. "You're warning me."  
  
Childermass looks away.  
  
"You think I don't know all that?" He reaches for Childermass's hand and laces their fingers, his other hand reaches up to trace his jaw. "Whatever happens, it was only ever you that I wanted."

 

*

  
They are some distance down the King's Roads when Childermass realises they have lost their way once more. Without acknowledging it or stopping, he takes out the compass and tries the spell again, but here on the roads themselves, it refuses to work, the arrow stubbornly spinning. Segundus watches him anxiously, biting his lip.  
  
They eventually halt at a crossroads.  
  
"Where do we go from here?" Segundus asks.  
  
Childermass looks around. Dawn appears to be breaking, but the roads are still cast in shadow. Above them, the stars are receding, rapidly being replaced by morning light.  
  
"I do not know," Childermass says. "But these are the King's Roads and we are safe." He takes Segundus's hand. "And I find now that I am in no great hurry."  
  
Segundus smiles at him and squeezes his hand.  
  
For now at least, they are lost, but they are lost together, and they are going to find their way.

 

*

 


End file.
